


Choices Have Consequences, Even When You Don't Make Them

by PennamePersona



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennamePersona/pseuds/PennamePersona
Summary: Susie smiles and says, “Let’s go back tomorrow,” and you think, “Well, that seems unlikely.”





	Choices Have Consequences, Even When You Don't Make Them

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit Deltarune is so good, y'all!! 
> 
> This work is gonna have mentions of that ending cutscene, so if that's gonna suck for you, please be aware and be careful!

Susie smiles and says, “Let’s go back tomorrow,” and you think, “Well, that seems unlikely.”

 

There are no clear rules as to how the entrance to the Dark World works, much less a guarantee that two teenagers could manage a way back in. Your doubts are not vocalized, though, and you do hope to be wrong about them.

 

(You noticed that room, saw the toppled pieces on a board you just saw traversed so differently, you saw all of that and Noticed it, Noticed that it was not the room the Dark World was entered from, that you have no certainty that the closet still is. No reason to think two Heroes could find a way back, but so many reasons for them to Need to.)

 

Susie, who is no longer half so frightening and who you think may even be safe, now, leaves. A mother is stressed and forgiving and sweet and just so slightly unfamiliar to the part of you that Remembers something Else, but that is not your concern.

 

You have other concerns, namely the white fur of a dark prince, namely the speed at which that prophecy was completed, namely the Knight you still know nothing substantial about, and you hate not knowing things.

 

But that is all for another time, with the sun setting like this, and so you follow everyone else and leave the school.

 

How odd this town is, you think, though it can be difficult to put clarity onto why you think this. It is no replica, but it is so close to one. An anagram of another place, you think, but missing something. The people are all not quite what you think they’ll be, like you’re trying and failing to load an old file over the proper, current save.

 

You need to put that file aside. You’re here, now, not there.

 

Wherever there is.

 

( _ Underground _ , the memories whisper,  _ underground where everyone was safe, for the moment, until you meddled, and look where that got you, look where that got them _ -)

 

There is so much in this town, so many people. The Holidays in the hospital, the lack of clarity there, the worry you see and feel, though it is distant. Flowers with cards that don’t feel as substantial as you think they’re meant to. The church, where you are told stories of a rambunctious child who seems so normal that you wonder when exactly things started changing, think back and count the time that Asriel has been gone and come up short of an explanation.

 

And then there’s the new store, where you feel shoved, punched, kicked, everything fuzzing over and hurting your head because “ i t ‘ s  g o o d t o s e e y o u a g a i n ” but you can’t Remember why this is all so strange, much less why you even thought that, so you leave, run, walk slowly to the next place and try not to think too much about Sans’ younger brother for fear of losing even more of your thoughts.

 

It’s the diner that interests you most, keeps you clearest. Memories of siblings loving each other, here, as they were meant to, it’s...soothing, though it still doesn’t feel real. Nothing does in this place, but this is close enough to what home could be (should be?).

 

Everyone sees this young person in stripes and knows exactly who they are, but you’re still not quite sure. There are things you didn’t question at first that you’re looking twice at, now, like the flowers in that shop, like their colors, like their number, like the graves in the cemetery marked with names that feel like static and that you know have an explanation that doesn’t include the entries of Scientists and the mistakes they made, but that reasoning is slipping more with each step.

 

And then you cannot stop thinking about how people are saying Asriel’s name, how those syllables sound when they fall from their lips, trip from their tongues.

 

They know him so well, know his sibling so well, know his kindness like it’s etched into each of their memories with absolute certainty. Asriel Dreemur, as much a model son, friend, brother as he ever was, and oh, he’s coming home soon.

 

You aren’t sure what to do with that, with the two, three, unnumbered and uncertain ways you remember Asriel Dreemur existing, with the flowers in that shop, with their color, with their number, with the loneliness of Asgore Dreemur.

 

But here comes home now, safety, a mother who stayed that way, and you think that you have time to process, at least as much time as it takes for a pie to cool, in your experience. You think that there’s time, yet, to watch Kris as they handle the day’s events, but night comes quickly.

 

Night comes, and they shudder in their sleep. They shake, and you imagine the dreams they would be having after a day like this and feel something like soft concern and care - 

 

And then they rise - 

 

and their shuffling isn’t quite right, too purposeful to be stumbling but far too Wrong to be desired -

 

and they reach up so

 

achingly

 

slowly 

 

and 

 

Their Soul is in their hand, how did they do that, yank it out of their chest while it still beats, throw it violently in that cage and is  _ that _ why it was so horribly beaten, like their  heart Soul, how often have they done this, what could this possibly be? 

 

_ Who _ could this be, you think, and as soon as that thought crosses your mind, they reveal that glinting blade and  _ grin _ and you finally see their  _ eyes _ and-

 

You close the program.

 

And it all goes Dark, once again.

  
  
  
  


You look at your hazy form, floating around and inside of itself. It’s just you, W.D. Gaster, and your consequences, staring back.

 

You seem to have failed, once again, because of your hubris. 

 

You know your choices don’t matter.

 

So why do you keep making them?

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Well, hope you liked it, comments are wonderful and I'm a fan of prompts!
> 
> I take writing requests! Information at: [provisionalpenname on tumblr](https://provisionalpenname.tumblr.com)


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